


It Isn't Easy

by Nanji



Series: I Hope We Find What We're Looking For [1]
Category: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo, jojo's bizarre adventure: Golden Wind, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: AU where everyone is a normal human being, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Downhill Relationship, Drinking, Drunk Dancing, F/M, Gen, GioMis, M/M, Naratrish - Freeform, Platonic Skinship, They have no stands, They're all 18 and above, implied bruabba - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanji/pseuds/Nanji
Summary: Giorno Giovanna enjoys a night out with the gang at their favorite bar in Napoli; the very place where he found his love, Guido Mista. Everyone was up to their usual antics; everything was normal. But in the back of his mind, Giorno knew that he would remember this night for days—maybe even weeks to come.
Relationships: Giorno Giovanna/Guido Mista, Narancia Ghirga/Trish Una
Series: I Hope We Find What We're Looking For [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871932
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	It Isn't Easy

Friday nights are always the best nights. Well, at least to the rest of the gang. Giorno takes a sip of his beer as he watches Mista enjoy the night dancing with Trish. 

“You alright, Giorno?” Bucciarati’s comforting voice rises above the booming noise of the club. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.” The blond smiles at the comment.

“Of course I’m fine, Bucciarati,” he answers. “I’m with all of you. That’s enough to make me happy.”

“Should I lick you again?” The older man teases, knowing from the tone of the blond’s voice that he said a lie.

“Please, no more of that,” Giorno chuckles. “You do know it was a traumatizing moment.” He points out.

“Then don’t lie next time,” Bucciarati responds with a smile. The two of them take a sip from their drinks as they watch Mista and Trish.

“Those two sure know how to party,” Abbacchio breaks the momentary silence. “It’s almost a disgusting sight. Hey, Narancia can you see how your girlfriend—”

They all hear the young man gag.

“Fuck—” Fugo and Abbacchio say in unison. “Bucciarati—”

“I’m on it,” the man, quick on his heels, stands up and goes to Narancia. “Narancia, are you alright? Let’s get you to the lavatory.” And so, he takes the young man’s arm over his shoulder and helps him get up. He quickly turns his head towards Giorno, “Get us some water please, Giorno?” to which the blond nods in response and makes a beeline toward the bartender. 

“GIOOOORNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He hears Mista call out to him. “AMORE MIOOOOOOOO” he shouts almost melodically. The blond turns his head to meet eyes with his lover. 

“Yes, Mista?” He simply asks.

“DANCE WITH ME, PER FAVORE?” The older man shouts again. Giorno simply chuckles at the sight of Mista comically swaying his hips from side to side as he takes carefully measured steps towards him—all in perfect sync with the music. 

Giorno extends his arm for Mista to take and kiss. He tugs on Giorno’s arm lightly and places a gentle hand on his waist. He brings his lover closer and closer to him, just until their noses meet. Mista takes a moment to admire those beautiful emerald eyes amidst the flashing lights and the almost-deafening music that was playing in the club. Giorno takes the opportunity to close in what little distance they had and plants a chaste kiss on the taller man’s lips.

“I have to get Narancia some water,” he says casually.

“So you’re on babysitting duty today?” Mista pouts. “Won’t you just stay by my side?” He adds as he lets his hand carefully slide down to Giorno’s hips, then a little towards the back... “Please?” He whispers coyly.

“Sorry, Mista,” Giorno breathes out a huff of laughter. “But I gotta go take care of Narancia with Bucciarati. You’re with Trish anyway. Just enjoy the night for me.” He takes Mista’s hands off him before placing another kiss on the man’s lips. He then walks away.

A feeling of uncertainty suddenly washes over Giorno. Those last few kisses with Mista felt different—or to put it more bluntly, it didn’t feel like anything at all.

He doesn’t know when it started—let alone when he realized it—but if he had to take a guess, it was probably when he started missing the little things that made his relationship with Mista so meaningful and wonderful. Giorno has always had the habit of disliking useless or wasteful things, but when it comes to Mista—simply the existence of him—it was a habit that can be easily unlearned; from the way Mista would gently kiss the little freckles and moles so artistically scattered across his body at night before they sleep, to the way Mista would tuck his blond hair behind his ear the moment he wakes up and greets him with ‘Buongiorno, gattino mio’. It all seemed so useless at first, and just when he was starting to yearn for those, it stopped. 

He sighs at the sudden recollection. A wave of nostalgia hits him and tugs on his heart. Why is he feeling like this? He pushes his thoughts aside as he finally reaches the bartender. 

“A pitcher of water please and seven glasses,” he requests. “Have it brought to table number 1.” He takes a moment to glance at the center of the party where Trish and Mista were happily dancing. “Oh, and a bucket of beer, please. Charge it for later.” He adds. The bartender jots down the order and advises Giorno to wait for their servers to bring the beverages to their table. With that, Giorno thanks the man and leaves.

By the time he gets back, he sees a groggy-looking Narancia leaning on Fugo’s shoulder, and Bucciarati and Abbacchio talking casually as they finish up their drink. He sits beside Bucciarati.

“I take it that Narancia still isn’t feeling well?” He asks the older black-haired man.

“I’ll have him take some antacids and a painkiller once we get the water,” Bucciarati answers.

“Seriously, this always happens every Friday night,” Fugo groans. “The guy’s 19 yet he can’t even pace himself responsibly!”

“The guy’s too happy,” Abbacchio snickers. “Thinks maybe the more he drinks, the more he can have fun. What a poor sucker.”

“You do know that Narancia can still hear the both of you,” Bucciarati inserts himself into the conversation. “Let him enjoy the night the way he wants to. Give him a couple years, maybe he’ll find out how to properly pace himself and grow out the habit.” Just when he was about to continue defending the half-conscious boy, the server arrives with a tray at hand.

The two continue on with their jokes on Narancia’s weak alcohol tolerance as Bucciarati and Giorno help the server arrange and clean their table to fit the orders. Once done, the two immediately tend to Narancia. Bucciarati is quick to get a small pill case from his pocket and Giorno pours water on the glasses. They assist Narancia in drinking the meds.

“Just give the meds some time to work, okay Narancia?” Bucciarati tells the boy while gently rubbing his back. Narancia simply nods in response.

“Hey, maybe when you’re feeling better you should have a Negroni. My treat!!” Abbacchio teases as he lets out a hearty laugh. Fugo immediately joins in, while Bucciarati rubs his temples and groans.

While that was happening, Giorno takes the time to look at Mista and Trish’s direction. He sighs as he takes a sip of his ice-cold beer. He was never really the type to dance, but he remembers the time Mista invited him to dance at the very club they are at; where they had their first drunk kiss. 

Where he first confessed his love for Mista.

He smiles a bit at the memory. He remembers how Mista held on to his waist from behind as they swayed their hips to the beat of the music, and how he left a trail of kisses on his neck. How could he have viewed a drunk memory to be so romantic? 

He takes another sip. He watches Mista placing his hands on Trish‘s waist, their hips start to sway; an image quite familiar to Giorno. As Mista and Trish lose themselves to the thumping of the bass, Giorno takes another swig. And then another, and another. Giorno hadn’t realized he’d downed 3 straight beers. 

Was it the feeling of being drunk that made it so romantic? Why was he even doing this? Wasn’t he supposed to be enjoying the night out with the people who matter to him? Why is he going against the very principle he lives by? Was it the alcohol? Was it the sentimentality? Was he wishing to relive the exhilarating feeling he experienced with Mista from four years ago?

He watches Mista turn Trish around and kisses her hand like a gentleman before turning his head toward their table. Their eyes meet. Mista furrows his eyebrows and squints, as if he was trying to read Giorno’s face.

He finds the answer to his questions. He feels a warm yet familiar wetness make its way down his cheek.

It was love. A love he so desperately and unnecessarily wanted to cling on to.

“Giorno?” A muffled voice is heard. Giorno, overwhelmed with emotions, does not hear it quite well. His vision starts to blur as tears fall from his eyes. 

_‘Useless… So useless,’_ he thinks to himself. He feels a firm hand on his shoulder. He quickly turns his head to see Bucciarati’s eyes widen.

A wave of shame engulfs him.

“Are you alright, Giorno?” Bucciarati asks. “I was calling out to you but you weren’t responding.”

The golden-haired boy clears his throat and wipes the tears off his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers dismissively, earning a raised brow from the older man. “It’s probably the alcohol making me sentimental.” He forces a fake chuckle. 

“Don’t take me for a fool,” Bucciarati simply comments as he smiles at Giorno. “If it’s about Mista…”

“Bucciarati,” The blond manages to smile as an attempt to brush off the man’s concern. “I think everyone knows how touchy-feely Mista and Trish are. They’re really good friends and they both enjoy each other’s company, and Trish is with Narancia––”

“I think by now you know that I wasn’t referring to that.”

Giorno’s at a loss for words. He _does_ know what Bucciarati was referring to. He knows it from the way Bucciarati looks sternly into his eyes, from the tone of his voice, from the way his hand is firmly placed on his shoulder. He knows it too well. The older man has always been sharp and intuitive. He knows there is no hiding his true feelings. Still...

“Maybe I just drank too much.”

He feels Bucciarati’s hand lift from his shoulder and sighs. He smiles at Giorno again, knowing fully well that the blond doesn’t get drunk over beer.

“Maybe,” He simply tells Giorno. “But don’t forget that I know a liar when I see one." And with that, Bruno waves a hand at Mista and Trish who are on their way to their table.

“Finally,” Fugo sighs exasperatedly. “I thought the two of you will never stop. I’m getting sleepy already.”

“Huh? What time is it anyway?” Mista asks, his skin glistening with sweat from all the dancing.

“It’s already 12:30 AM, moron,” Abbacchio is quick to answer. “You and Trish were enjoying so much we’re all just waiting for the two of you to finally come over. Hurry up, we’re going home. I’m done drinking so I’ll drive us all back.” He announces as he looks at Bucciarati who nods back at him.

“Narancia, sweetie, how are you feeling?” Trish asks as she sits beside her boyfriend.

“Ahh, Trish!!” Narancia cries out. “I’m sorry I couldn’t dance with you anymore!!” He embraces Trish and buries his face at the crook of her neck. The girl giggles as she wraps her arms around Narancia and kisses his messy black hair.

“Seems like he’s back to normal,” Mista laughs. “But what? Are we all really going home???” He complains as he looks at the gang. “I can still drink a couple more beers!!”

“Then look for your own ride home,” Abbacchio retorts as he rolls his eyes. “I’m not waiting for Fugo to get pissed and start shattering glasses like last time.”

“Hey, in my defense, I paid for the damages!” Fugo cuts in, earning a couple laughs from the group. “And it was freakin’ 2 AM that time!”

“Which is why I’m telling Mista to get his own ride home if he still wants to drink,” Abbacchio replies as he takes a sip of water. “Bucciarati, shall we go?”

“Yeah, give me a minute,” Bucciarati answers as he raises his hand to call the attention of a server, signaling for the check. “Here,” he continues as he hands the car keys to Abbacchio. Get the guys in the car so we can head home immediately. I’ll just pay for our tab.” 

The eldest takes the keys and nods. “You heard the man,” he addresses the group. “Get your asses up and let’s get to the car. Mista, your choice whether or not to come with.” They all start to stand except for Giorno, who was sitting beside Bucciarati.

“Oy oy, I’m coming with you, geez!” Mista shouts as he downs a bottle of beer like water and follows the rest of the group who are beginning to take their leave. He stops in front of the blond.

“Uh, hey,” he addresses his lover. “You coming?”

“I’m splitting the bill with Bucciarati,” Giorno looks up to speak. Their eyes meet. “You go on ahead, Mista.”

“Okay, gattino.” 

Mista stays there for another two seconds, as if waiting for Giorno to say something. The younger man was the first to look away.

“Ti amo, Giorno,” he breaks the silence. He waits for another second for a response.

“Ti amo,” Giorno says in return, but barely audible. “Cosi tanto.” He whispers to himself. He doesn’t even look at Mista, afraid that his lover might see how his eyes are starting to water again.

“I’ll, uh, see you in the car then,” Mista replies awkwardly as he finally leaves the club.

Giorno sighs. Whether it was out of relief or not, he doesn’t—or will probably never—know. A server walks toward their vacated table with their tab and hands it politely to Bucciarati. The blond rummages his pocket to bring out a small and sleek leather wallet but is stopped by his friend, who places his tan hand over his.

“It’s on me tonight, Giorno. You had a rough night,” the older man says soothingly. He takes out a few bills from his own wallet and inserts them in the tab, handing them over to the server. “Keep the change.” He tells the server and signals Giorno to stand and leave; his arm making its way across the younger man’s shoulder.

“I’m just here if you need someone to talk to.”

“You always are,” is all that Giorno says. “And I’m always thankful for it. Besides,” he huffs out a breath. “I don’t need to tell you anything for you to know what’s going on.” He smiles lightly. “After all––”

“I know a liar when I see one,” Bucciarati completes the sentence as he smiles back. “Just know that we will support whatever decision you have to make. And remember,” he stops and faces Giorno. “Do it for you–-what is best for your heart.”

The rest of their short walk towards the car is quiet and contemplative, especially for Giorno; the last few lines of Bucciarati echoing in his head. 

_‘Do it for you—what is best for your heart.’_

It is definitely easier said than done. Sure, he knows what to do, but how sure is he that it is what’s best for him? For his heart—for Mista? 

They arrive at the car. Bucciarati takes the passenger seat, next to Abbacchio who starts the engine. Giorno automatically finds himself seated next to Mista–-as he always does. He finds that his lover was leaning his head against the window, sleeping soundly. He kisses the man’s cheek and gazes at him intently, but a pang of pain tugs on his heart. 

Mista doesn’t move or even wake up when Giorno kisses his cheek. Neither does he take Giorno’s smaller frame in his arms nor kiss his forehead as he would normally do when they are all settled in the car. 

A single tear falls from his eye again. At that moment, he knows it. And as much as he wants to deny it, the truth is there, right beside him:

There is little to no hope in saving a dying relationship.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this work! This is my first JJBA fan fiction ever, so I hope you like it. GioMis is my OTP and has a special place in my heart. This work is co-authored by a good friend of mine (who's twt is on priv so I can't share, but I'm super thankful for his patience and dedication. Honestly, he drives this passion project forward and he's amazing in putting my thoughts and ideas into words. So every kudos I get here, is also a credit to him!!)
> 
> The title is named after Hiroshi Sato's "It Isn't Easy". Do give it a listen, if you want!
> 
> Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter ([@yo_nanji](http://twitter.com/yo_nanji)) . I'm pretty active there and I'm always looking for moots and friends~ ^-^
> 
> (This series will be updated soon, so stay tuned!)


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